Chapter 3

Rule 1: On no account should you ever sleep outside my home or travel without getting permission from me,” Damien said, his voice flat, dropping like heavy lead weights onto the polished mahogany desk between us.

My chest tightened, air trapped halfway up my throat.

“Rule 2: Your curfew time is 9:00 PM. I expect my wife to be home before I do.

“Rule 3: You're not allowed to have a boyfriend or male friends besides me.

“Rule 4: You're expected to attend every social gathering or event with me, and you're not allowed to go to parties or any social events that include drinking or boys.

“Rule 5: You're not allowed to leak the secret behind our marriage on social media or tell anyone about it.

"I do not set these boundaries out of caprice, Ariana," Damien added, his tone clipped and analytical. "The press and my corporate rivals examine every move I make. A single photograph of my future wife stumbling out of a nightclub or linked to another man can tank a multi-billion-dollar merger overnight. In my world, control is not a luxury—it is survival."

“Rule 6: Your body belongs to me.

“Rule 7: You're not allowed to carry out any medical or cosmetic surgery or treatments without informing me.”

He leaned back in his leather chair, resting his hands flat on the desk, staring at me with dark, unreadable eyes. “Those are the few rules I have for now. Do you have anything to say?”

I stared at him with bloodshot eyes, my hands shaking so violently I had to jam them into my lap. A horrifying mixture of nausea and rage rose in my esophagus, burning like acid.

“What do you take me for?” I choked out, the words tearing out of my throat. “A toy? A property, perhaps?! I can't sleep outside? I can't get medical surgery? So if I was having an emergency, I should lose my life while waiting for your permission? And what the fuck is ‘my body belongs to you’?! ”

I couldn't believe my ears. I sat up straighter, needing to hear him deny it, needing to hear that this was a sick, twisted joke.

“Emergencies for medications are permitted,” Damien said coldly, not a single muscle in his face softening. “Yes, you're not allowed to sleep outside without my permission. You're going to be a wife, Ariana. And not just anyone's wife—Damien Voss’s wife. You have to represent the Voss name with caution and prestige. You can't be seen doing things that normal people do.”

“Yesterday, did you wonder how you got home?” he asked softly, a faint, mocking edge in his tone. “I have seen you and your best friends living and you need to rethink on the people you call your friends not to talk of your best friend cause Jade you know all she cares about is parties and though I know that you’re not like that but think about it.”

A hot wave of humiliation burned through me. He had seen me completely helpless, and now he was dissecting my life and my best friend as if he had every right to.

“So yes,” he added coldly. “You obey my rules because I saved you from your own terrible choices, and because your life belongs to this arrangement now.”

“Then you're in for trouble, because you married the wrong girl!” I spat, leaning over his desk, tears of fury burning behind my eyes. I refused to let them fall. I would rather choke on my own throat than shed a tear in front of this bastard. “This girl is on fire, and she's never going to surrender to your will! Here's a warning, Mr. Voss—don't ever lay your filthy hands on my body!”

Damien didn't flinch. Instead, a slow, predatory spark lit up in his eyes as his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered heavy and suffocating over my collarbone, tracing down my chest in a way that made my skin crawl, before slowly dragging back up to meet my eyes.

“You belong to me fully, Ariana. All mine,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk and cold as iron. “You gave me the permission to touch you the second you signed those papers.”

Disgust surged through me, so intense I physically recoiled. I grabbed my purse off the desk and stood up, every nerve ending in my body screaming at me to run before I suffocated in this room.

“I'm obviously wasting my time talking to you, because it seems your ears are only on your head as an accessory,” I chuckled bitterly, tilting my head back to hide the quiver in my chin. “Just watch and see how I plan to obey your rules.”

“You should,” Damien said, a faint, terrifying smile curving his lips. “Because disobeying these rules comes with punishments... and these punishments are sexual.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, sending a cold shiver straight down my spine.

“Fuck you, fuck your sexual punishments, and fuck your damn rules!” I yelled, turning on my heel and grabbing the heavy brass door handle. “You don't get to tell me what to do with my time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to a place where normal people are!”

I yanked the door open, desperate for air.

“Don't go breaking a rule tonight, Ariana,” his voice smooth, lingering in the air behind me like a shadow.

I slammed the heavy glass doors of the Voss Tower behind me and ran blindly into the evening air, my lungs gasping for breath. The city hummed with life around me, but inside, I felt like I was being buried alive under the weight of a million-dollar contract.

By the time I stumbled back into my house, the clock on the living room wall was creeping toward 8:00 PM. My head was pounding violently, every muscle in my neck locked tight with tension.

I needed to clear my mind. I needed to forget the way his eyes had swept over my body, forget the sound of his voice claiming ownership over my life. But I had one immediate problem lingering in my head as I walked down the dark hallway.

What was I going to do with myself tonight?

Hi, my name is Ariana— the girl who is being forced into a marriage of debt repayment, currently suffering from a severe case of I-have-no-idea-how-to-survive-this-syndrome. I let out a dry, breathy chuckle to myself. Sometimes my sense of humor surprises even me. I somehow liked how I could force myself to laugh, even when my world was caving in. It was the only thing keeping the breakdown at bay. Sometimes, though, I really wished I had someone who could make me laugh when I was this deeply broken.

I reached out my hand, grabbing for my bedroom door knob, when a low, fragile voice cut through the silence behind me.

“Ariana...”

I froze, my hand locking on the metal handle.

I turned around slowly. My mother stood near the kitchen doorway, looking frail and hollowed out, like someone who had been on a dry fast for days. Her eyes were red, sunken into her pale face.

“Ariana... I'm so, so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she took a hesitant step toward me.

My eyes caught her hands—red, calloused, and trembling against her apron. The very hands that had tucked me into bed as a child were the same ones that had signed my freedom away to a mogul. A fierce, instinctual urge to throw my arms around her and cry pulled at my chest, but it was drowned out by the bitter sting of betrayal. Loving her hurt too much.

Seeing her crushed something raw in my chest, but the sudden rush of anger and betrayal was too loud, too violent. I couldn't do this. Not right now. If I opened my mouth, I would scream, and I couldn't bear to break her completely.

Without saying a single word, I threw my bedroom door open, slipped inside, and slammed it shut between us, turning the lock with a sharp click.

I leaned my back against the cold wood of the door, closing my eyes tight, fighting back the heavy sob rising in my throat.

Ring. Ring.

My phone vibrated violently against my thigh, breaking the suffocating silence of the room. I fished it out of my pocket with trembling fingers. The screen flashed with Jade’s caller ID.

I swiped the screen open and pressed it to my ear, sinking down until my knees hit the floor.

“Jade,” I choked out, trying so hard to keep my voice steady.

"Ari! Oh thank God," Jade’s energetic voice boomed through the speaker, music already thumping faintly in her background. "Listen to me, I know you’re a home buddy buy you need to get out of that house right now. There's a massive house party happening on the East side tonight, and you are coming with me. Consider this your official invitation—no excuses, no backing out. Get your ass over here so we can get drunk and clear your head!"